Among The Dead
by Rubine Goslay
Summary: Daryl's tortured search for Carol after 4.8. M for language. One shot. Angst/Romance


Among the Dead

AN_ Angsty angsty angst fest with a side of angst and a surprise ending.

Where is she? It's hardly even a question anymore. It's been my primary thought for weeks, month's maybe. Not the walkers. I always seem to keep them at bay. Not Maggie or Beth, who I fled with when the prison fell. We found a group of survivors a few weeks back, good folk, solid walls. I left them there so I could keep looking.

Where is she? It's my only thought. Every now and then I think, is she ok, but the thought is brief because I can't handle the alternative. Food comes when it does. I find some canned in a house, or snag a possum every so often. I hardly even feel hunger anymore. I just know I should eat.

They used to be faceless to me, the walkers. I couldn't even tell you how many I've killed. But now when I see them, I look. I'm looking for her. Sometimes I'll see one that strikes a kind of similarity and for a second I won't be able to breath.

Why didn't I tell her? Even this is not a question. I know why I couldn't. It only makes me hate myself more. It's another thought I can't stand. Her going off into the world alone, not knowing what she is to me. What she's done for me.

Going off, right. She was more or less sent to her death. By a man I'd call my brother, for a crime she didn't even commit.

He said she was strong, supplied, capable, that she would survive. All that don't mean shit. Did he forget about the walkers, the mega herds, the roving bands of rapists, like Randall's crew? The psychopath who ran Woodbury? He didn't think there'd be more of that?

But I don't think about him. And I hope I never run into him again. Because if I find Carol and she's gone. And then if I find Rick. I'll kill him.

I don't sleep a lot. And when I do, I don't dream. When I do dream it's always nightmares. But it's the same as when I'm awake. Last night I dreamt I found her. She was holed up in a boat house by a lake, maybe she was going to journey across. And I find her. The look in her beautiful blue eyes is fathomless, sad. I don't understand. I go to hug her. My arms wrap around her, my hand gently touches her neck, and it's wet and slick. I pull back my hand and it's covered in blood. She's bit. Right on the back of the neck, like T-Dog. I found her, but we only have a couple of hours left together. And then I'll never see her again. And I'll have to put her down, or wait for her gorgeous eyes to change from bein' full of light to blank and empty, not knowing who I am. Like Merle's eyes.

I wake from this soaked and shaking. What if I find her and she's bit? What could I say to her that would make up for more than a year of sayin' nothin'?

What if there's nothing left of her, like with Lori? What if they all ate her up, and she's in their foul stomachs right now? I'm glad I haven't eaten today because the thought is nauseating. I'd never find her. That could be the case right now, and I'll spend the rest of my days seachin' for what's already gone. I have no way of knowing.

What if she decided to end it, like Jacqui? What is she 'opted out'? Rick viciously threw her out. Said harsh words to her. Said lies. Said no one wanted her there. Said no one wanted her in the group she had devoted her life too. What if she believed them? Believed no one else cared, that no one else wanted her? My rage at the group surfaces and I'm glad I'm alone. That all of them just accepted that it was my Carol who could have done that.

But she was never really my Carol, was she? Because I was weak. Afraid. But she could have been mine. I could have made her mine. I saw it in the catch of her breath, in the tilt of her head, the smile she always had for me, the way her eyes would dilate sometimes. But I was too afraid. Afraid that I was wrong. Afraid that I didn't know what I was doing. What Merle would say…

What if she found a community like Woodbury? One that seems nice at first, but has a darkness to it? What if she's been charmed by a snake, like Andrea was? It's happened to her before. Ed couldn't have been like that in the beginning. What if she's been seduced by another lunatic, who could kill her as easily as look at her? What if he's beating her right now? She's hurt, alone and afraid. With out me to help her.

What if she got trapped somewhere like she did at the prison? What if she's stuck in a room somewhere, no weapon, no water, no food, walkers growlin' outside, just waiting for the inevitable? Wondering why I didn't come save her?

Why didn't she just wait for me the day Rick left her? She had to have known I would go after her. She had to know. Why'd she even listen to him? He wasn't in charge, why'd she have to take his word as gospel? Why didn't she brush it off and say Fuck you, the prison is where I belong?

Why didn't she just wait for me to come get her?

Rick threw her out, but that was his decision, not mine.

Did she really think I'd let her stay out there alone?

These are my thoughts all day. And I think of her face. The feel of her skin on the rare occasions of contact, the tone of her voice when she teased me, which was often. The way she smelled, like flowers at dusk.

I think about what could have been. If I knew her before this shit storm went down. If she hadn't married that motherfucker. What if we had been neighbors, coworkers? We could have gotten to know each other the normal way. Maybe she still would have liked me. I could have loved her in a safer place.

Lost track of time. I have no idea how long it's been since we were forced out of the prison. Might be months. A year. I have no idea.

Every now and then I'll see a Cherokee Rose blooming. It feels like they are laughing at me. For the first time since I knew the sting of my daddy's switch every night, I think about ending it. But I can't. I could never. Because I know she's still out there somewhere. And I'm going to find her or die trying.

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I think back to when we were all out on the road, after we'd been forced off the farm. There was one night when we were all camping outside, hadn't been able to clear a house that day. Which was unfortunate, because it was winter and temps were droppin' much lower than normal. We were used to sleeping on the ground, but it was freezin'.

The Grimes were cuddled close together. The Greenes were too. T-Dog had a heavy jacket and he was snoozing away.

Carol and I, we always seemed to sleep a few feet apart. And that night in the cold, I could almost feel her shaking to keep warm. I could hear her whimpering, trying to pull her thinning clothes around her, alone on the ground. It reminded me of that night in Dale's RV, when she was cryin' about Sophia being lost, and I was lying on the floor trying to get some rest. But her cryin', her whimperin', just something about the noise of her in pain, I'd do anything to stop it. Anything she needs. At least this time it's an easy fix.

I took my poncho out, scooted towards her and gently draped it over her body. But it was cold. She didn't have nothin' on but raggedy ripped up pants and an old threadbare tank top, that holey poncho wasn't going to be enough. Not when I could do more.

One the ground behind her, I gingerly draped one arm around her, waiting on pins and needles to gauge her reaction. She didn't push me away like I feared she might. She didn't turn around and give me dagger eyes. She sighed in relief, one of the sweetest sounds I ever heard. I smoothed the poncho over her frame.

Then I pulled her to me into a spoon, my other arm snaking under her side, wrapping around her middle and pulling her gently against my back. She felt so small. So breakable.

Wordlessly, she found her hands in mine and I felt the quaking of her chilled body slow in measures, her jerked breath gradually beginning to calm as I felt my own warmth contribute to hers until her little noises stopped and her body was warm and snug against mine. She whispered "thank you" and drifted into sleep in my arms.

That's the one thing I don't regret.

One of the few happy thoughts I have. If I couldn't save her this time, at least I gave her that moment of comfort.

I'll admit, my search for her hasn't been that organized. Guess it can't really be. I go where they let me. I kill as many walkers as I can.

Somehow I've wandered back into Atlanta. A lot of the walkers have left, now in bands of mega herds elsewhere in the state. I've got no vehicle. Since I lost my bike I've just been walking. The streets seem empty enough. And then I start to hear it.

The snarling. Before I even see them, I can hear it. And it's loud enough I know I better run.

I hear a woman's voice outta no where. The first human voice I've heard in I don't know how long.

"Stop! Hang left! Go up the fire escape!"

I oblige. But it's been a few days, no food, little water. In that hot Georgia sun, by the time I make it to the top of the building, it's all I can do to hold onto the rails. I see her face. Why does she look so surprised? The image swims before my eyes. Hers and another pair of hands grab me, pull me over.

That's all I know for a while.

I wake up, days later in a soft clean bed. The sun is shining in through the windows. My filthy clothes have been changed and the wounds that I've been ignoring have been cleaned and dressed.

I see her. She's sitting in a chair by my bed, smiling at me. Is this what it was like for Rick when he went crazy?

Then it sets in. I'm dead. If Carol's here, she's dead too. It has to be that way. I feel too good to be alive. No, I feel too safe to be alive. Slowly I sit up in bed, swing my feet over the edge.

She's lookin' at me, smiling. Her face is so clean and bright I can almost see her halo. She's got her head cocked in that funny way she did. Her hair's some inches longer, it's sweepin' her delicate shoulders now. "How did it happen?" I ask her. My unused voice sounds strange.

"I spotted you down on the streets. We were on a run, we went up to the roof to see which road would be best to take and well, there you were." She said with a little disbelieving shake of her head. She seems happy. A little dazed, but happy.

"No. I mean how did you die?"

She laughs a short, choked laugh. She rises from her chair and sits on my bed, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead for a quick fever check.

The coolness of my skin calms her, but she leaves her hand on my face, resting it on my cheek. She captures my eyes. "I'm not dead. And neither are you."

It takes more than a moment to sink in. But when it does, I reach out and pull her into my arms quicker than I meant to, she gasps, then chuckles breathlessly as I squeeze her against me, needing that physical pressure to know she's real, to know I'm not dreaming, to know we're not dead.

My hands unconsciously stroke her back. I don't think I'll ever be able to let her go. Some amount of time passes with us just like that, sitting on the bed holding each other. The scent of her in my lungs is a drug

"Where are we?" I try to keep my voice steady.

"Camp Georgia. It's huge. It's safe." She seems sure, but also seems to be struggling to control her octaves. "We got a decent section of the city walled off."

"How long have you been here?"

"Since Rick threw me out."

"You've been safe this whole time?" Tears of relief well in my eyes. Since I'm holdin' her and she can't see my face, I just let them roll. Forgetting myself completely, I bury my nose into her hair and inhale. Flowers at dusk. If I'm alive, if I'm dead, either way, I'm in heaven. And there's no sense in being afraid now.

"Carol. I've got something to tell you."


End file.
